The Thunder Rolls
by ilovetvalot
Summary: When the past invades the present, the ramifications may turn out to be far worse than Ashley Seaver ever imagined. For those interested, this is our twist on Ashley Seaver's backstory. SEVENSHOT.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note - Hi, readers! For those of you leaving reviews, we both appreciate it and love hearing from you. For some reason, for the past two weeks, fanfic isn't letting me respond. But, I wanna take this moment and tell you guys thank you!**

**Song Inspiration - "The Thunder Rolls" by Garth Brooks**

* * *

**The Thunder Rolls**

**Chapter One**

Tumbling clouds fell around them as the SUV barreled further down the deserted highway, the two passengers quieter than proverbial church mice. Hesitantly, she flashed the man beside her a sidelong glance and grimaced.

Only two words could define what she saw reflected on his roughly hewn face.

Seriously pissed.

Well…she supposed he had cause. It wasn't a surprise, after all.

She'd defied a direct order..._his _direct order, and not for the first time, either. Technically, she knew this one couldn't be held against her...or at least her fledgling career. No, these consequences would be of a much more personal nature.

As if she hadn't already endured enough in the personal consequences department today, she thought, self-consciously lifting a tentative hand to her bruised throat. Closing her eyes, she recalled those terrifying moments of over an hour earlier.

Hindsight was indeed twenty-twenty. What she wouldn't give to go back to this morning and simply ignore her ringing phone instead of answering it!

Of course, she had picked it up, however. After years of silence between herself and her father, it was his familiar, gravelly voice that had greeted her first thing this morning. He'd wanted to know if she'd received his letter.

She should have simply hung up the phone. There were a thousand things she _should _have done.

Instead, she'd allowed herself to be manipulated into an immediate visit to his maximum security home, ostensibly for him to say goodbye before the disease he carried within him claimed his worthless life.

And that had been the beginning of the end…in more than one way.

Shifting uncomfortably in the leather bucket seat, she turned to stare out the window, the Virginia countryside passing quickly. Closing her eyes, her thoughts once again turning inward, she understood that she should have never gone alone.

Her intentions had been pure. Or so she liked to tell herself right then, her conscience searching for something altruistic to define the actions she had taken earlier. In the end, though, she knew that she had her own motives that were still a bit indefinable in her mind, but, admittedly, more than a little selfish.

She needed closure. And boy, had she received that in spades.

Letting out a deep sigh, she tried to ignore the flashing memories that refused to leave her overworked mind. She could still see her father's face when she had first sat down next to the small bed, her knees touching the mattress. Holding her own emotions in check, she had merely met his eyes, hoping that she could find some hidden key that would give her the answers to the questions she had asked for years. Maybe, just maybe, she could decipher the oppressive codes that had seemed to weave around every fiber of her life.

At first glance, though, he hadn't appeared to be the monster she had first thought he would be. He just looked…old. Harmless.

And that simple dismissal of his danger had been her downfall.

As she'd sat in the small airless room, attempting to make small talk with a convicted serial killer, she'd watched his eyes. They'd been so much like her own, it had made her skin crawl. For several minutes, that connection more than she'd expected, she'd actually been convinced that she could do this...see him and not be terrified.

For his part, her father had been initially contrite...involved…soft spoken as he'd asked her what she'd done with her life. His questions had been simple, really. Where had she gone to college? What had been her major? Was she happy?

Normal questions that any father would want the answers to...but, she should have known her father was _anything _but typical. But the part of her that had missed having a functional parent had been too happy that he was showing an interest to notice the subtle signs that there was an ulterior motive at work.

As her visit had reached the half hour mark, their conversation had turned to him...his illness...his health.

His coming death.

She should have noticed the change in him...seen the trap she was stepping into.

She should have, but she hadn't.

Until it had almost too late. She hadn't seen the way her father's eyes had suddenly shuttered, his pupils enlarging to twice their normal size as he had rasped out what she had then thought was his contrite confession.

She had obviously heard what she wanted to hear…what she so desperately had needed to hear for almost a decade.

But perception is not always reality, and she had slowly started to realize that his remorseful tone was starting to harden…to sharpen. And his weak voice had started to strengthen as he had told her about his plans for his future…about how he wasn't yet finished with his work on this earth yet.

His final coup was yet to occur.

The element of surprise had been on his side, and he was obviously counting on exactly that. Her reflexes had been dulled by emotions, her expectations lowered due to the circumstances. The quietness of the empty sickbay had been suddenly broken by the sound of a squeaking bedspring, and Ashley's senses went on high alert a mere second before she felt his bony fingers suddenly attach themselves around her neck.

And as she tried to scream, to catch her breath, she realized in that moment that all of her fears had been brought to fruition. Her very life was literally in the hands of this madman that had given her half of her genes, and she had believed that he was going to demand them back.

She dimly heard the guard yell for help as her father's palms became manacles around her neck, choking the life from her. But as dark lights had danced in front of her eyes, she'd heard another voice...this one infinitely angry and every bit as dangerous as her fathers had been.

And as suddenly as the madman that her father was had grabbed her, she was free, thrown behind an enraged Special Agent David freaking Rossi, his larger body shielding hers protectively.

It had ended as quickly as it began. But she had known that the situation was nowhere near over.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's Note - Hi, readers! For those of you leaving reviews, we both appreciate it and love hearing from you. For some reason, for the past two weeks, fanfic isn't letting me respond. But, I wanna take this moment and tell you guys thank you!**_

_**A/N 2 - And, guys, I'm really interested to hear your take on this story as it progresses. It will help me make a decision to continue with a third story. For those wondering, the prequel to this story is, "Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old". I look forward to hearing from you.**_

_**Song Inspiration - "The Thunder Rolls" by Garth Brooks**_

* * *

**The Thunder Rolls**

**Chapter Two**

Gasping for breath as Rossi had slammed her father against the wall beside the bed, she'd looked at her father, his eyes glazed and breaths coming in shallow pants as Dave's hands constricted around his throat. It had taken three guards to pull him away...to keep him from ending a life that had already continued much too long already.

Blinking back the tears burning her eyes, she swallowed painfully as she fought the memories. He'd barely spoken to her when the prison nurse had checked her out and he'd been completely silent since they'd returned to his SUV. She'd tried to tell him that she could drive the rental car back to DC...that she was fine, but his answering glare had said more than words ever could, and she'd quickly climbed into the vehicle when he'd jerked the passenger door open and merely pointed.

Now, almost an hour later, the unnerving silence was deafening. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to look at him. "I wish you'd say something," she whispered, her voice husky after her father's brutal attack. Just another lasting scar that would mar her psyche far worse than her body, she thought tiredly.

"You don't want me to do that, Ashley," Dave bit out, his jaw tightening as he clenched the steering wheel, his foot pressing harder against the accelerator.

Hearing his voice still vibrating with fury, she winced, but persevered in her original direction. "Yes, I do. Go ahead."

Shooting her an antagonistic glower, he snorted sarcastically. "You asked for it, kid," he warned, tapping one finger against the steering wheel. "First, for such a supposedly smart young lady, you make some of the most fucked up decisions I've ever witnessed. You're hardheaded and you don't _learn_ from your mistakes. You just keep making them and hoping for a different outcome."

Biting her lip, she reminded herself that she'd invited him to do his worst as the urge to defend herself warred with her common sense. And if she wanted to move beyond the invisible barrier that she'd been responsible for erecting between them, she had to bear his wrath.

"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you, you idiot?" Dave yelled, his hand now thumping the steering wheel furiously. "Forget the big sin, for a second," he told her, his lips pressing flat. "Let's talk about the fucking insanity of walking into a maximum fucking security prison unaccompanied, Ashley! You're, what? A hundred pounds when you're soaking wet? Unarmed? A fucking woman surrounded by a bunch of goddamned deviants? What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded harshly.

"You have to ask what's wrong with ME? I'm the daughter of a serial killer, Dave!" Ashley shot back in spite of her earlier resolutions, her chest tightening with the combined emotions. "I think the better question would be what's _not_ wrong with me!"

"Don't pull that bullshit, Ash," Dave warned, casting his eyes darkly in her direction as he tightened his hands on the steering wheel, needing something solid as he attempted to control his rage. "That man wanted to kill you, woman, and that ain't no father figure for anyone."

"But he's the one I've got," Ashley muttered, her hands twisting in her lap, her eyes staring straight out the windshield, no longer seeing the passing road, the grayness merely filling all parts of her vision. "And I had to…"

"All you have to do is stay alive," Dave interrupted sharply, well aware of where the conversation was heading. And he'd be damned if he let her off easily…not when the evidence of her stupidity was wrapped in livid bruises around her pale skin. "And that requires that you use the brain that God put in that head of yours for something more than just storing facts. Tell me, did you ever consider the fact that he wanted to get you alone just like he did every victim he ever had? It was textbook, goddamn it, and you fell for it!"

"I needed to see him!" Ashley yelled back, her voice bouncing against the windows. "I needed closure."

Laughing without humor, Dave muttered, "Oh, you almost got that, didn't you? The fucking permanent kind. Honest to God, you need a keeper!"

Turning her head as he sped past the exit ramp that would have led them back to Quantico, Ashley's eyes narrowed. "Quantico was that way," she commented, pointing over her shoulder.

"I know where the hell I'm going," Dave bit out. Jesus, but this slip of a woman was determined to drive him insane! And he'd been the jackass that had suggested her to Aaron. What the hell had he been thinking? Clearly, his sense of misguided nobility would be his fucking downfall.

"Care to tell me then," Ashley replied tartly, arching one brow in a silent dare.

Inhaling deeply through his nose, Dave felt his shoulders stiffen at her tone. Saving a colleagues life only to murder her himself would be wrong, he reminded himself silently. Wisdom came with age, and the woman beside him didn't have enough of that on her side yet. She didn't intentionally set out to turn his hair gray. But he still planned on blaming her for the event.

"Agent Rossi?" Ashley questioned sharply.

"Do you like your job, Ashley?" Dave asked, forcing himself to make his query calmly...almost conversationally. It was an old profiling trick…and one that he had mastered a long time ago.

Eyebrows furrowed, Ashley stared at his profile as he faced the road. "Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"I assume you'd like to keep your job then?" Dave continued, ignoring her question as he flipped his turn signal.

"Of course," Ashley replied blankly, still at a loss as the clicking sound filled the small cab of the vehicle.

"Then I suggest you sit back and enjoy the ride to my cabin. You can hide out there," Dave returned evenly, executing a turn onto the county highway that would lead him to his own piece of heaven.

"Hide out?" Ashley echoed, eyes widening as she turned sharply. "Who am I hiding from?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note - Hi, readers! For those of you leaving reviews, we both appreciate it and love hearing from you. For some reason, for the past two weeks, fanfic isn't letting me respond. But, I wanna take this moment and tell you guys thank you!**

**A/N 2 - And, guys, I'm really interested to hear your take on this story as it progresses. It will help me make a decision to continue with a third story. For those wondering, the prequel to this story is, "Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old". I look forward to hearing from you.**

**Song Inspiration - "The Thunder Rolls" by Garth Brooks**

* * *

**The Thunder Rolls**

**Chapter Three**

"If you have any intelligence at all, you'll avoid your Unit Chief for the next day or so. He sees you now and he'll fire you on sight," Dave answered, his words clipped and stern.

"F-fire me?" Ashley stammered, her pupils dilating in shock. "Why? I followed protocol and called in this morning. I had vacation time stored in my bank..."

"You also have this infuriating habit of placing yourself into known dangerous situation without fucking back-up," Dave countered fiercely, shaking his head as he attempted to clear his mind. "Situations that could get you dead, Ashley. Hotch doesn't especially enjoy renegade agents."

"I didn't go rogue, damn it!" Ashley spat back defiantly. "I took my own personal time and went to see my father." Her personal life might leave a lot to be desired, but it was still _hers_, wasn't it?

"A known serial killer that the BAU ...or more specifically, your fucking employer and bosses...put away!" Dave roared, slamming on his brakes as a deer darted across the road.

Slapping her hand against the dashboard as the vehicle came to a jarring halt, Ashley turned to look at Rossi, his dark face mottled with rage. "What I do with my personal time is my business, isn't it?"

"Not when it puts your life at risk, it isn't," Dave retorted, forcing himself to reassume a more reasonable speed on the winding road. "The fact is, if you wanna work with us, you learn that you're part of a team...even when it comes to life outside the office, Ashley. Or you find a new job."

Frowning, Ashley leaned back against her seat again, his words finding their target in her heart. "How did you even know where to find me?" she asked quietly as lightening flashed in the distance outside the window.

"Garcia traced your cell phone," Dave replied tersely, flipping up the visor. "Once we had the coordinates, the math on what the hell you were doing was pretty easy."

Shooting him an irritated look, Ashley huffed as she crossed her arms over her chest, "You know, there are some that would call that an invasion of privacy."

Incredulous, Dave silently counted to ten before replying. "Evidently, you aren't real bright, Ashley. You work with a bunch of profilers. You don't _have_ any privacy. You should have read the fine print before signing on," he rapped out, turning onto the private gravel road that led to his property. "You forfeited _privacy_ to become a part of something bigger than yourself. If you don't like it, you know where the hell the exit is."

"Seems to me like everyone else gets to take their own roads without a lot of interference," Ashley muttered as she stared out the window, a "no trespassing" sign posted prominently on the passing fencepost.

Dave snorted as he rolled his eyes. "Don't pull the poor, pitiful me act. It won't work. The entire team is well aware of what happens when you go rogue." Narrowing his eyes, he took one hand off the wheel and pointed a finger in her direction. "Just start with Penelope. She'll tell you exactly what can happen when she held back a piece of herself because she thought her way was better."

"Garcia?" Ashley asked, surprise filling her voice as she turned toward Dave, her posture relaxing in spite of her earlier anger. "What in the world could Garcia have ever done?"

"She got shot is what happened," Rossi replied succinctly, turning his eyes back toward the road as he executed a sharp right turn. "And her recovery wasn't nearly as fast as yours has been. As a matter of fact, her recovery was a fucking miracle is what it was."

"She was shot in the line of duty?" Shock filled every word as she shifted in her seat, turning against the seatbelt. "I still don't see…."

"You don't see because you don't know the entire story. Just like you don't know nearly as much as you think you do."

"Then educate me," Ashley snapped impatiently, barely resisting the urge to resort to physical violence and beat his arm. "Or turn this thing around and take me home."

Pressing his lips together in a grim line as another bolt of lightning slashed across the horizon, Dave slowed the SUV, turning into the driveway of his cabin, the security lights welcoming him. Shoving the gear shift into park, he pointed at the deck. "Inside. I need a scotch before I try to talk any form of sense into you."

Rolling her eyes, Ashley pushed open her own car door as the first fat raindrops began to fall, plopping against her skin as the sky opened above. Jogging toward the covered deck as the sky seemed to open up, she figured it was poetic. The coming storm definitely set the stage. And the weather matched her companion's current mood - dark, deadly and dangerous.

Waiting at the door for him as he trudged up the steps, she noted the tense lines in his face, more prominent under the light of the barely glimmering moon. As he reached her side, she felt a chill of foreboding as she stood beside him. How the hell had she ended up at David Rossi's vacation house? When she'd awakened this morning, this was certainly never where she imagined herself to be this evening.

Fishing his keys from his jean pocket, Dave sighed as he unlocked the front door. Aware of her presence behind him, Dave murmured, "I think I've got a pair of sweats with a drawstring. I'll grab you a change of clothes from upstairs."

"These will dry," she offered softly, following him inside the house and pausing by the door.

Rolling his eyes at her, Dave muttered, "We're both soaked, Ash. Just take the damn clothes I bring you and be grateful."

Tamping down on the urge to pick a fight, she nodded, choosing to keep her silence for that moment.

"Make yourself at home," Dave threw over his shoulder as he disappeared from the room.

"Make myself at home," she mimicked under her breath as she peeled her soggy jacket off, draping it over a tall kitchen chair. How the hell did she do that when she was anywhere but _at home_, she questioned herself rhetorically. Especially when where she currently stood was as far from home as a girl could get.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note - Hi, readers! For those of you leaving reviews, we both appreciate it and love hearing from you. For some reason, for the past two weeks, fanfic isn't letting me respond. But, I wanna take this moment and tell you guys thank you!**

**A/N 2 - And, guys, I'm really interested to hear your take on this story as it progresses. It will help me make a decision to continue with a third story. For those wondering, the prequel to this story is, "Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old". I look forward to hearing from you.**

**Song Inspiration - "The Thunder Rolls" by Garth Brooks**

**The Thunder Rolls**

**Chapter Four**

Looking around at where the living legend that was David Rossi lived, she noted that it was the very antithesis of what she'd expected. Instead of the chrome and glass she'd expected, his cabin had a lived in feel that only time could cultivate. It was, in a word, homey.

Patently un-Rossi.

Hearing the dull thud of his footsteps descending the stairs a minute later, she straightened from examining the long bookshelf filled with cookbooks in the corner.

"My second ex-wife's," Dave explained, catching her shocked look. "Somehow I ended up with her cookbook collection in the divorce."

"Lucky you," Ashley murmured, accepting the soft clothing he extended to her, her sense of smell quickly picking up the soft scent of fabric softener.

"Not really," Dave returned with a shrug as he moved further into the kitchen. "The bitch got my favorite fishing rod."

Merely raising an eyebrow, Ashley waited for the inevitable explanation.

"It was a quid pro quo thing," he confessed reluctantly, his tone bordering on sheepish. "She got my rod and I took her books hostage."

"And did that childish behavior make you feel better?" Ashley asked curiously, no rancor in her voice.

"It didn't hurt," Dave drawled. Pointing a finger toward a door down the hall, he offered, "The bathroom's that way."

"Instead of keeping something that didn't mean anything to you, you should have burned them and had the ashes delivered to her. It would have made more of an emotional impact," Ashley commented neutrally as she walked away, disappearing into the guest bathroom.

Allowing himself a low chuckle at her observation, he had to give the younger woman points for style. Shaking his head, Dave turned toward the stove, reaching into an overhead cabinet for a couple of coffee mugs. Efficiently filling both with water, he shoved one of the ceramic mugs in the microwave and began preparing a pot of coffee while it heated.

By the time Ashley reemerged from the bathroom, a cup of honeyed tea was waiting on the granite tabletop for her. "Drink that," Dave ordered without preamble. "It'll help your throat," he added nodding at the steaming mug as he took his first much needed sip of his own coffee.

"I prefer coffee," Ashley murmured, wrinkling her nose as she peered at the almost colorless liquid swirling inside the cup.

"I prefer working with people that don't have a penchant for taking unhealthy risks. Evidently, we don't always _get _what we want. Besides," Dave added as he shrugged, "my mother swore by that concoction there. It cures everything from the common cold to a shitty break-up. Drink it," he commanded again, passing her on his way into the den, leaving her to trail behind him.

Sighing, Ashley reluctantly carried the hot mug from the table and followed him into a surprisingly cozy sitting room. Glancing around she noted the comfortable looking leather sofa, the worn recliner...the only expensive looking pieces in the room were the state of the art plasma television mounted on the wall and the impressive looking computer in the corner of the room. The walls were lined with shelves filled with books.

"I use this place to write," he offered by way of explanation when her gaze lingered on the home office setup in the corner.

"It's definitely not what I expected," she said faintly, her fingers trailing the book spines as her eyes took in the titles. Mostly non-fiction, but with a few classics weaved into the mixture. Would this man never fail to surprise her?

"Yeah, that's me. An enigma," Dave snorted. "Sit down, Ashley. You're making me nervous," he grumbled, sinking into his recliner and dropping his cup on an oak coffee table beside him.

Glancing down at his own cup as she passed, Ashley raised an eyebrow. "Thought you couldn't wait to get your hands on the scotch," she commented dispassionately.

"Something tells me that I'm going to need my wits about me to deal with you rationally," Dave replied grimly, watching as she folded herself into the corner of the sofa, her legs tucked beneath her.

They sat in silence for a few minutes as Dave picked up the remote, turning on the television and flipping through channels until he finally settled on a baseball game. "You mind sports?" he asked, not looking at her as he adjusted the volume.

"I'm not particular," Ashley shrugged, her fingers rubbing against the seam of the couch. Drawing in a deep breath, she decided that now was as good a time as any to get the answers that she wanted. "You mentioned Garcia in the SUV. That she was more like me than I knew. What did you mean by that?" Ashley questioned curiously.

Exhaling heavily, Dave paused to look into the clear inquisitive gaze of his guest. Clearing his throat, Dave began, "I meant that you aren't the only colleague I've ever come across that had trouble playing by the rules. A few years back, Garcia made some choices on the job that almost cost her life. Like you, she thought her decisions were _harmless_. She thought she knew better than the rest of us. That what she'd done, she'd done for the greater good. She'd been flagging case files for her victim's group, and she stumbled upon an Angel of Mercy killer. He shot her and left her for dead."

"Wait!" Ashley gasped, almost dropping her mug as she jerked up straight. "I remember hearing about this. The case culminated in a shootout in the middle of the bullpen, didn't it?"

Nodding slowly, Dave replied, "Jennifer Jareau made a hell of a kill shot. But, you're missing the point, Ashley," he said as he frowned, picking up his coffee. "That story almost didn't have a happy ending. That man came really damn close to ending Garcia's life. But, unlike you, she learned quickly from her mistake. She learned to rely on her team. You, however, seem to have some problems with that."

"Some things aren't the team's business, Agent Rossi," Ashley countered, staring down into her own mug with sightless eyes, her thoughts once again turning inward as she attempted to insulate herself.

"The team or the people on it?" Dave asked evenly. "You don't quite trust us, do you? After all, Hotch and I were two of the individuals that tore apart your family, weren't we?"

"And Jason Gideon," Ashley stated softly, that name an anathema on her tongue. "Don't forget about him."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note - Hi, readers! For those of you leaving reviews, we both appreciate it and love hearing from you. For some reason, for the past two weeks, fanfic isn't letting me respond. But, I wanna take this moment and tell you guys thank you!**

**A/N 2 - And, guys, I'm really interested to hear your take on this story as it progresses. It will help me make a decision to continue with a third story. For those wondering, the prequel to this story is, "Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old". I look forward to hearing from you.**

**Song Inspiration - "The Thunder Rolls" by Garth Brooks**

* * *

**The Thunder Rolls**

**Chapter Five**

Something in her voice made Dave pause for a moment and study her. Even though her head was bent, her hair falling around her face in waves, shielding her, he could tell that something was on her mind. "I can wait you out, you know," he remarked evenly, willing her to say something.

"He wrote a paper on me," she muttered, her thumb rubbing the chipped paint on the rim of the mug.

Lifting his chin, Dave's eyes narrowed. He knew all about that so called article that Jason had written. It was bullshit then and now. Nature versus nurture, his ass.

"Last week, after I received the letter from my father, I decided I wanted to know more about his crimes. I never knew much. And for some reason, those files pertaining to his case had been sealed from me," she began softly.

Oh, he was well aware that those case notes had been sealed, David thought. It had been done on his direct authorization when Ashley had entered the Academy. In his opinion, there were just some things a child did not need to know about her parents, no matter how old or educated they were.

"So, I asked Dr. Reid if there was anything that had been written on him. He told me about an article Gideon had written at the conclusion of the case. Dr. Reid said he hadn't read it," she whispered as she shrugged, "but, that it wasn't very well received. I was interested, so I looked it up."

That was it; he might have to murder Spencer Reid in cold blood, Dave thought grimly, watching Ashley's pale face tighten.

"He theorized that based on my exposure to the psychopathic mind, the odds were that I'd follow in his footsteps. The trauma of my childhood, coupled with genetics, predisposed me to..."

"I know what the article said, Ash," Dave interrupted her, his tone calmer than it had been earlier. "It was crap. Yeah, sure, you can find instances where what Gideon proposed was true, but you can find a hell of a lot more where it wasn't. You aren't a product of your environment."

Lifting her head, Ashley's eyes narrowed. "Yes, I read _your_ rebuttal article, too," she bit out, her chest tightening. "Is that why you helped my mother and me all those years ago? Getting my mother and me back on our feet...helping relocate us. Were we just some kind of scientific experiment between the two of you?"

"Do you really believe that?" Dave asked calmly even as his dark eyes flashed.

Cocking her head, Ashley slowly leveled him with an assessing glare. "I don't know," she offered quietly. "You tell me."

"I wrote the damned rebuttal because Jason's suppositions pissed me off," Dave stated, bluntly unapologetic. "You may not know this, but the amount of crap I agree with Jason Gideon on equates roughly to jack shit." Pausing, he took a sip of coffee to steady himself. "As for helping your mom and you, I did that because I felt bad. You were both obviously traumatized. And while you didn't know exactly what your father was back then, it was obvious you both suffered his abuses. The power trips...the rages. Hell, your mother was terrified of her own shadow."

"I was there, Agent Rossi," Ashley reminded him bitterly, fighting the visions that insisted on filling her memory. "You aren't telling me anything I don't already know."

"Exactly," Dave returned succinctly, arching one brow. "You both deserved a chance at normality. That's what I tried to offer you. The article had nothing to do with it. I wrote it in order to dispel some of the idiocy Gideon had spouted. Nothing more."

Accepting his explanation with a slow nod, Ashley went back to staring at her tea. "I never did like Agent Gideon. He always looked at mom and I like we were some kind of animal he was intent on dissecting."

"If you knew him better, you'd know that he looks at everybody that way. The man's a bigger ass than I am. Trust me," Dave said as he saluted her with his coffee, "That's saying something." Relieved to hear her low chuckle, he relaxed slightly. "So, this article...that's what made you decide to tackle seeing your father? Alone?"

Biting her lower lip, Ashley grimaced. "I needed to know if he was right," she confided with a whisper.

"Huh?" Dave grunted, dropping his mug back to the table and his feet back to the floor simultaneously as he leaned forward in his chair.

"I needed to find out if there was any basis to Jason Gideon's article," she repeated hesitantly.

"You did this because of something you fucking read?" Dave blinked, the urge rising to find Jason and drag him out from whatever rock he was hunkered under and beat the hell out of him.

"Yes," Ashley said on a quick exhalation of breath.

Surging to his feet with a loud curse, Dave shook his head. "You know what? I think I need that scotch after all," he groused, stomping toward his liquor cabinet.

Splashing a healthy amount of liquor into two glasses, he retraced his steps across the room, stopping in front of Ashley. "Screw the tea. Drink this," he demanded.

"But..." Ashley hesitated, unsure if letting her guard down in front of this particular man was in her best interest.

"If you wanna know about your father, drink the damn scotch," Dave growled, fully ready to find Jason and vent his murderous spleen. Yet again, that jackass had found a way to get under his skin. That was bad enough, but knowing he'd gotten underneath Ashley's too...that really pissed him off.

Simply put, he could handle it.

She couldn't.

"I don't normally…." Ashley began again, her eyes widening as she stared at the glass being thrust in front of her.

"You do today," Rossi ordered, waving the glass impatiently until she finally wrapped her narrow fingers around it. Watching as she took a hesitant sip, he nodded tersely as he sat down on the sofa. "Drink it all."

Coughing slightly as the unaccustomed liquor slid down her throat, she muttered, "This is supposed to make everything better?"

Pulling a healthy sip, Rossi dropped his glass to the side table with a clatter. "Just what the doctor ordered." Seeing the look on her face, he shook his head. "One man's poison is another's nectar. Just like one person's opinions aren't worth the paper they were printed on to someone else."

"But what if…"

"No what ifs, Ashley." Letting out a harsh sigh, he demanded, "Answer me this. When you wake in the morning, what's your first thought?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note - Hi, readers! For those of you leaving reviews, we both appreciate it and love hearing from you. For some reason, for the past two weeks, fanfic isn't letting me respond. But, I wanna take this moment and tell you guys thank you!**

**A/N 2 - And, guys, I'm really interested to hear your take on this story as it progresses. It will help me make a decision to continue with a third story. For those wondering, the prequel to this story is, "Much Too Young to Feel This Damn Old". I look forward to hearing from you.**

**Song Inspiration - "The Thunder Rolls" by Garth Brooks**

* * *

**The Thunder Rolls**

**Chapter Six**

Raising her glass, she quickly took a deep sip, the alcohol burning a trail down her throat, leaving her gasping and sputtering a second later. Tears standing in her eyes, she glared up at Dave, "What the hell is that?" she asked, trying to shove the etched glass back at him.

"Consider it medicine...hopefully enough to dull the pain," he returned evenly, pushing the drink back at her. "Again," he ordered as he nodded. "Only sip slower this time," he coached, waiting as she did as he bid her, albeit reluctantly and with a hell of a lot more caution this time. Waiting until she'd lowered the glass with a trembling hand to rest in her lap, he said, "Now, answer my question. What's the first thing you think in the morning when you open your eyes?"

Lifting her chin defiantly, Ashley replied stiffly, "The same thought I had every morning since the day you burst into our kitchen and arrested my father. _What did he do_?"

"You really can't let this go, can you?" Dave asked softly, dropping to sit on the table in front of the couch.

"Could you?" Ashley asked bitterly, her stomach clenching as she fought down the rising panic. "One day, I'm living with my father...and yes, he has a ferocious temper...a dangerously bad attitude some days, but he's never actually _hurt_ me. The next thing I know, you and Hotch are in our kitchen, waving guns...yelling...and suddenly, he's just _gone_. And nobody...not you...not Agent Hotchner..._none_ of you ever told me _why_! And my mom," Ashley snorted, rolling her eyes, "she found it easier to hide in a bottle than to look at me...a by-blow of a psycho! So, you tell me, could you let it go? Trust me, Agent Rossi," Ashley spat, "the _not_ knowing is a lot harder."

"Don't bet on it, Ashley," Dave sighed. Staring into her openly rebellious eyes, he warned, "Once you know something, you can't _not _know anymore."

"You think I'm living in a state of happy oblivion," Ashley whispered, her hand lifting to her bruised throat. "I had a glimpse of the monster my father was today. Just a glimpse."

"And you can't allow that to be enough?" Dave asked harshly, his eyes falling to the marred column of her elegant neck. "You saw what he was capable of today. Do you honestly need to know the details of his crimes?"

"You don't understand," Ashley groaned, pressing her hand to her forehead as she tried to stop the pounding. "The dreams I have...I don't know if they're dreams anymore. Maybe I saw what he did, Dave," she whispered hoarsely. "Maybe my subconscious just buried it. I have to know before it drives me insane!" she begged desperately.

Closing his eyes, Dave's stomach clenched. He and the team he'd worked with back then had always suspected that the distant child she'd been had witnessed more than she'd admitted to. Now, she was just confirming their suspicions.

"I need to face the demons, Agent Rossi. Because it simply isn't possible to run from them anymore," she told him hollowly, finally giving voice to the thoughts that had overtaken her life for years.

Rubbing a hand over his creased forehead, Dave considered her argument for a few still moments. "I think you can call me Dave by now, Ashley."

"Fine," Ashley acknowledged woodenly. "I want to know the truth, Dave."

Staring back into her flat eyes, Dave nodded. "Okay, Ash. Okay." Tossing back the remainder of his own drink, Dave dropped the glass back to the table beside him with a precise motion before turning his gaze back to her. Reaching forward to take her small hand in his, he said softly, "The truth is, your father made the BTK killer look like a pussycat, Sweetheart." Allowing her a moment for his words to sink in, he watched as she willed herself to hold it together.

He had to give the woman credit. She had a spine of steel. But, hell, even steel bent when enough pressure and heat were applied.

"Go on," she bit out, her throat tightening once again. The professional in her knew the ramifications of his assessment…but the human in her wanted to scream at the top of her lungs for him to stop.

"Your father was a unique breed of killer. Controlled. Meticulous. Before he was done, he'd kidnapped, raped, tortured and murdered forty-seven confirmed women across nineteen states. And, we've always suspected he was responsible for at least twenty other deaths."

Swallowing hard against the nausea rising in her throat, Ashley clamped her jaw down and simply stared at the man in front of her.

Feeling her tighten her fingers around his, he asked, "Had enough yet?"

"All of it," Ashley forced herself to say, her lips barely moving. She couldn't stop now…not when she had asked for this information. Not when she was so close to finding the missing answers to her unspoken questions.

"Your father's desire to kill wasn't a compulsion, Ashley," Dave explained gently. "He was in command of his urges. Based on our research, he proved that when he ceased killing for your first ten years of life. We suspect it was your adolescence that served as his trigger to begin killing again. His victims were always female, ages fifteen to twenty-three. And they all bore a remarkable resemblance to you," he said as neutrally as he could. Watching her eyes dilate, he mentally cringed. In for a penny, in for a pound, though, and she obviously needed this information.

"Me?" she choked.

"Yes. Coincidentally, you resemble your paternal grandmother as well. We think her sexual abuse was what spurred your father into killing. She was his only victim of any substantial age," he informed her quietly.

"He killed his own mother?" Ashley asked faintly, her head swimming.

Nodding, Dave went on. "That information was ascertained by his own admission during questioning. Her body was never recovered to verify his story. He'd dumped her in the Atlantic on one of his cross country runs. As a coincidence, we couldn't charge him with that one. Wouldn't have mattered anyway," Dave muttered as he shrugged. "He recanted that portion of the story later. But," Dave said, meeting Ashley's eyes, "I'm the one he gave that information to, and he wasn't lying."


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note: Okay, guys, here is the conclusion to this story. Would you like to read a third story in the arc? Review and let me know. Thanks for reading!**_

* * *

**The Thunder Rolls**

**Chapter Seven**

Shoving a shaking hand through her hair as she stared at the man in front of her with horrified fascination, Ashley whispered, "What did he do, Dave? To the girls?"

"Babe, don't do this to yourself," Dave pleaded with her, scooting closer as he realized how closely she was bordering on the edge of shock.

"No!" Ashley objected, violently grabbing the hand not already wrapped around hers. "You can't tell me half of it and stop here. I need to know!" Biting the inside of her cheek to keep from crying, she relied on the pain to focus her. Somehow she knew that if he saw one tear, their conversation was over. And she had to know the rest of it.

"Sweetheart, this story doesn't get any prettier from here," he warned. "The answers you want are gruesome, at best."

"I don't care," Ashley said desperately, the words ripping out of her wounded throat. "Just rip the bandage off, Dave."

"Shit," Dave muttered, holding both her hands tightly. "All right," he agreed reluctantly. "His modus operandi was that he'd kidnap his victim during approximately the first three hundred miles of his haul. Usually, his targets were girls that nobody would miss. Drug addicts. Runaways. Hitchhikers. But as he escalated, he grew bolder. There were a few college coeds...a cheerleader...people that drew attention. That's how he gained the BAU's notice."

"He kept them in the rig, didn't he?" Ashley whispered, shivering.

Reaching behind her to grab a soft throw from the back of the couch, he wrapped it around her with one hand as he nodded. "He owned his own business. It was easy enough to alter his truck with a special compartment."

"A torture chamber," Ashley bit out, her throat painfully contracting around the words.

"Yes," Dave agreed. "Your father would keep them until mid-way through the return trip home. He'd usually dump the bodies well before he arrived back here."

"Not always," Ashley said distantly, her memories slamming into her. Memories of a much younger Ashley in his garage...odd noises from the supposedly empty rig scaring her. She'd received some of her worst punishments for going into that garage without his express permission. She didn't even realize she'd confided that secret aloud until she heard Dave's heavy sigh.

"Your father was into mutilation, Ashley. But usually his victims were killed by strangulation. At least the majority were."

"A living, breathing demon in human form," she whispered, staring into space, her shoulders slumping underneath the warm blanket. Biting her lip, she whispered, "I can tell you of at least three times that one of those women made it back to our property. Did you check the grounds for remains?" she asked hoarsely, dropping her gaze to stare at their joined hands.

"We did, Ash. With dogs. They never found anything. But your father is a highly intelligent man, and, as I said, meticulous. He wouldn't have used his home for a dumping ground. We knew that going in."

"I should have known," she muttered, guilt and grief battling for dominance in her frazzled mind. "But I was afraid to open the rig," she choked out, hating herself for not doing something...anything...to save just one victim.

"You were _ten_," Dave countered, silently thankful that her curiosity had never overwhelmed her natural fears all those years ago. What she would have found in that darkened truck wasn't something she'd have ever recovered from. He'd seen the remains from her father's depravity. He knew. "And if you'd have ever opened that door, he _would _have killed you. He wouldn't have had a choice. You'd have been collateral damage."

"But..."

"No, damn it," Dave said forcefully, jerking her hands toward him and physically shifting her body . "No buts. Not this time. Say it with me here, honey. He would have killed you."

"You don't know..."

Damn it, he didn't have a choice. He really was going to have to tell her everything. If he didn't, she was going to spend the rest of her life wondering...questioning...

"When we seized your father's property, we found a journal. With pictures," Dave explained bluntly, watching carefully as she jerked her head in his direction.

God, it just got worse, Ashley thought desperately. "Mementoes from his kills," she said sadly, her voice catching as she fought the rising tears clogging her throat.

"No," Dave denied with a quick shake of his head. "They were pictures of his sleeping daughter...mutilated photographs. And a written detailed plan of what he eventually planned to do to you. You were going to be his grand finale, Ashley. Believe me, he _would_ have killed you."

"Oh my God," Ashley said as she struggled for air, unable to fill her lungs. And in that second, she realized that her worst fears had indeed been far less than reality…and that she had never even touched the tip of the demented iceberg that had been her family.

"There was a reason I didn't encourage you to see your father after you received his letter. And there was an even bigger reason that I told you if you decided to go forward with a visit, that I wanted to come with you. Now, you know it." Watching as her eyes clouded with a fine sheen of tears, he silently cursed. "Sweetheart?" he called to her as those brilliant blue eyes of hers affixed to the wall behind him. "Ashley?" he called more strongly, lifting a hand to tap her cheek gently.

"No," Ashley shook her head vigorously, the fragile shield that had held her emotions at bay suddenly crumbling into a million pieces. "No, no, no, no, no!" she screamed, lifting her hands to pound against his chest, no longer feeling the horrors as her mind simply shut down.

Catching her against him as the first wave of grief and sorrow crashed into her, knocking her forward, Dave sighed as she raged against him, delivering blows where she could as her sobs echoed in the room.

Turning his head to stare out the window as her blows subsided, he watched the lightning strike in the distance, thunder rocking the house. He tightened his arms around Ashley as the lights flickered.

It didn't matter.

The weather outside was no rival for the storm raging within the woman he held right now.

And unfortunately, he doubted there'd be any clear skies tonight.

_**Finis**_


End file.
